Of Prom Proposals and High School Dances
by Scallisaac
Summary: With prom right around the corner, Scott's problems suddenly seem distressingly human again. (main pairing is Scott/Stiles, and there will be background Allison/Lydia, Kira/Malia, Boyd/Erica, and Derek/Braeden)
1. Chapter 1

By the end of his junior year, Scott McCall has dealt with life or death situations more times than he can count.

He's put up with werewolves and kanimas and darachs and berserkers and banshees and every other supernatural creature under the sun— not to mention he's almost died in the process on several occasions.

His life has been a shit-show, filled with so much pain and strife and tragedy and chaos it could feed a thousand nogistunes.

So by the time he's finally turned seventeen he's seen a lot, he's done a lot, and somehow, throughout it all, throughout every new emotional and physical trauma that comes wandering into his life, with every new problem and supernatural creature that Beacon Hills attracts, he's survived.

With the help of his friends, he's somehow managed to get through it all.

And yet, he's having trouble doing this— this one simple task that every other high school student has to deal with, this daunting prospect that's been hanging over his head for the past few months and making his insides squirm.

It's weird—he's almost forgot what it like to have, well, _normal_ problems; problems that every teenager deals with and not something that might mean life or death.

It's almost unnerving.

But here he is, standing by Stiles' locker, trying to figure out how he's going to word this, his heart skipping frantically in his chest and his stomach doing nervous backflips.

Prom.

The word has been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting impatiently behind his pursed lips for a while now, with mounting frustration, as his mind tries to come up with excuses to put it off further, to delay the inevitable embarrassment, to wait for the perfect moment.

As if he needed any more unnecessary stress in his life.

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"Hey, Scotty, you okay? You don't look so good, buddy."

Scott takes a deep breath and decides fuck it—it's now or never, and Stiles is right here in front of him, and the rest of the pack isn't there to eavesdrop on their conversation, and he has to do this.

So he clears his throat and stands up a little straighter and does his best to control his voice, to keep it from going all high and squeaky like it does sometimes when he's nervous.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. But uh…well…could I ask you something?"

Stiles raises his eyebrows and looks at him questioningly, but just shrugs and says "Okay, shoot."

"Okay, so… remember back in uh, middle school, I think? When we promised each other that if neither of us had dates for prom when we got to high school that we'd, you know, go together? Like, as each other's dates or something? I'm not really sure if that was meant to be a joke or not but…uh…I was wondering if…if maybe that promise still stands? You know, neither of us have dates yet, and prom is only like a week away, and—"

Stiles cuts him off as Scott stumbles over the words and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, his face beginning to turn a distinct shade of red.

"Wow, Scott. Really? That's how you're asking me to prom? Are you serious, dude? I expected better from my best friend, the hopeless romantic extraordinaire."

Stiles is smirking as he says this, and as Scott splutters indignantly ("I'm not—what do you—I don't—hey wait—") he's not sure whether he wants to punch him in the face or hug him.

Because this is the Stiles he knows and loves, this sarcastic little asshole he's known his entire life, and after everything that's happened, he'll never really get tired of finally having that back.

Plus, he notes the way that Stiles' heartbeat speeds up at the question and the stupid, genuinely pleased smile he can't get off his face afterwards, and realizes that this is basically Stiles' way of saying yes—or at least not saying no.

Scott gives his shoulder a shove and rolls his eyes.

"I hate you."

Stiles smirks and throws an arm around Scott's shoulder.

"No, you don't."

(He really doesn't.)

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Later that day, Scott is sitting alone in his room, mentally kicking himself and cursing his over-eagerness, because fuck—Stiles is right.

He knows he was joking and he knows that in all honesty Stiles probably doesn't care (it's true—Scott has always been the hopeless romantic out of the two of them), but God, it's bothering him.

Because he should have done something big—he should have asked in some elaborate and ridiculously cheesy and clever way that would embarrass the shit out of Stiles but that would also have him smiling for days.

But he had been so intent on getting it over with, so nervous about asking in the first place that it completely slipped his mind.

The only possible solution he can think of is to just kind of…do it anyway. Ignore the fact that he's already asked and stage some big, extravagant plan to ask Stiles to prom that he'll never forget.

Besides, if he asked him again it would be like…double the love, or something…right?

He knows he's grasping at straws at this point, but he sighs and decides he really has nothing left to lose as he picks up his phone and sends off a frantic text:

'_Need your help! It's urgent! Come over ASAP.'_

If he's going to do this right, he's going to need a little help from a pro.

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Not even fifteen minutes later, he hears the doorbell ring and yells a quick "I'll get it" to his mom as he sprints down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, and skids to a stop seconds before smacking his face into the front door.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and once he's composed himself, gently opens the door and peers outside.

And there she is, standing at his doorstep with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently, eyeing his disheveled appearance with a raised eyebrow and amusement dancing in her eyes, while doing her best to look determinedly bored.

"Lydia Martin, have I ever told you how wonderful you are? Because you are absolutely wonderful. You're the best. You're like…the smartest, coolest person I know. Did I mention you look lovely today? I really—"

Lydia holds up a perfectly manicured hand to silence him.

"Cool it, McCall. Flattery will get you nowhere," she says and waves her hand dismissively in the air as if she's swatting a fly (and yet Scott can tell that she's appeased as a small smile curls her lips).

"However, out of the pure goodness of my heart, and because I am such a _wonderful _person, I have decided to help your sorry ass plan a _proper _prom proposal."

Scott doesn't even bother to ask her how she knew why he asked her over in the first place as Lydia pats him on the chest and pushes past him into the house, throwing a knowing smirk over her shoulder. He learned a long time ago never to question Lydia Martin and her uncanny ability to just know things without anyone really telling her.

(Scott just supposes she really does know everything, after all.)

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Lydia plops herself down on his bed and makes herself at home, making sure to spare a disappointed glance at the mess of schoolwork, books, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

She motions for Scott to take a seat (it's amazing how she can make him feel like a guest in his own house, his own_ room_) and claps her hands together.

"So! Just to clarify—I'm going to help you, and I'm going to make sure you don't mess this up, but I need you to know that no matter how good this prom proposal is going to be, it's not going to top how I'm going to ask Allison. And I'm winning that stupid contest, okay? I _have_ to, Scott. It's in my blood."

Scott can't help but smile at this, at Lydia's fierce competitive streak rearing its head even in something as frivolous as a prom proposal competition. It's what makes Lydia, _Lydia_, and he can't really imagine her being any other way.

"Yeah, okay. That's fine. I think I kind of already have an idea; I just need some help planning out the details."

"Well then," Lydia says, her sharp, intelligent eyes following Scott's every move as he jumps back to his feet and anxiously paces around the room, "what are we waiting for? Let's get started, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Luckily, Lydia deems Scott's plan as 'passable' when he explains how he wants to do it, and although she tries to act like she's not impressed, he can tell that that she sort of is.

They round up Isaac, who's sitting in the room next door watching reruns of Gossip Girl, and recruit him to help with the plan's execution despite his feeble protests _("But Scoooott, this is just getting to the good part, Chuck is about to—" "ISAAC LITERALLY NO ONE CARES; YOU'RE COMING WITH US" _followed by a gentler approach,_ "Come on, I'll take you out for Mexican later if you help")._

It takes a little while, and although Scott's mostly got it covered he's glad he's got the two of them with him, as Lydia stands back and observes, giving him helpful tips and advice and making sure he doesn't screw anything up, and Isaac helps him with the more hands-on stuff.

By the time they're finished, the sun has set and night has already fallen.

Luckily, the place they're at— though outdoors— is lit-up, and they all stand back to admire their work.

"It kills me to admit this, Scott, but…I'm impressed. You did a really good job with this. I think he's going to love it."

Coming from Lydia Martin, this is incredibly high praise, and Scott can't help but feel his chest swell with pride.

"Hey, I helped too!" Isaac chimes in before Scott can properly thank her, and Lydia just rolls her eyes at him.

"Yeah, you helped, but this was _Scott's _idea."

Scott, who's standing in between the two of them and is too excited to put up with any sort of argument, throws an arm around both of their shoulders and grins ear-to-ear.

"It was a group effort. Seriously, thank you guys so much for your help—I couldn't have done it without either of you. Lydia—did you text him?"

Lydia smiles fondly at his eagerness and excitement and Isaac just looks happy that his contribution has been acknowledged.

"Yeah, I did. He should be on his way now. He thinks he's meeting me here on pack business. But I promise we'll be gone before he shows up—you just have to let us know how it goes. I'm expecting a very in-depth play-by-play of his reaction. "

She grabs Isaac's hand and gives a little wave over her shoulder as she pulls him away, and as they're getting in her car they shout one last "Good luck!" in unison before driving away, leaving him there to wait, teeming with excitement and unable to sit down and relax.

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He hears Stiles' jeep before he sees it, the familiar squeak of the tires and chugging of its engine as it gets closer and closer until finally Scott can see the splotch of blue approaching on the horizon.

His heart speeds up in anticipation, and after what feels like an eternity Stiles finally pulls up in the parking lot where Scott is waiting for him.

He climbs out of the jeep and looks around in confusion.

"Where is Lydia? And the rest of the pack? She said there was something important we needed to talk about."

Scott's palms are sweaty and he has to force himself to focus very hard on staying calm and composed as he grabs Stiles hand and starts pulling him along behind him.

"Well, this isn't exactly pack business, but it is important. To me, at least. And to you, too, I hope."

Stiles eyes him suspiciously before looking around him and fully taking in his surroundings. Comprehension dawns in his eyes and a smile tugs at his lips as looks back at Scott and tilts his head in curiosity.

"Scott, why are we here?"

Scott flashes a grin at him.

"So, you recognize it, then?"

Stiles raises an eyebrow as if to say 'are you serious?' and nods.

"'Course I do. This is the playground where we met. Like, a billion years ago. How could I forget about—"

The words fall flat and get stuck in his throat as they come to a stop in the middle of the park, and his mouth hangs open in shock.

"Scott—Holy shit—_how_…?"

His voice is full of amazement, and he's staring at the sandbox—or more specifically, what's inside the sandbox— eyes wide in awe.

It's a sand castle—but it actually _looks_ like a castle. It's tall and it's wide and it's incredibly detailed—clearly it took almost all the sand in the sandbox to make it, and it takes up nearly the entire space.

Most importantly, however, is the single word carved into its side:

'_Prom?'_

Scott grins at the baffled look on Stiles' face, basking in the knowledge that he's accomplished something that not many people can say they've done—he's left Stiles Stilinski speechless.

And it's really not often that Stiles— always-thinking, always-talking, hyperactive Stiles—who never really shuts up, can't find anything to say.

"It's just like when we first met here, remember? I was building a sand castle, all by myself, when you showed up. Only this time it's a lot…bigger. And I didn't completely make it myself—I had help from Isaac and Lydia. Well, Isaac helped me build it. Lydia kind of over-saw everything."

When Stiles continues to gape at him, looking from the sand castle, to him, and back again, Scott adds, "Oh, and I'd appreciate if you didn't pee on this one, you know, like you did when we were three."

"Scott—I can't believe you—oh, my God…I was just joking earlier! You didn't have to go through all this trouble and do this!"

"I know," he says with a smile, "but I wanted to. And it was definitely worth it, just to see your reaction."

"I can't believe you," Stiles mutters, shaking his head slowly back and forth. But he can't stop smiling as he circles around the sandbox, snapping pictures of Scott's creation on his phone to remember it by and stopping to run his fingers over the spot where 'prom' is written into the side.

"So, is that a yes, then?" Scott asks with a grin, giddy at how well his plan has seemed to have panned out and already thinking of how he's going to describe Stiles' reaction to Lydia and Isaac later.

"Dude, I already said yes earlier when you asked me!"

"Not technically, you didn't."

Stiles rolls his eyes and attacks Scott with a hug, nearly knocking him over in all his enthusiasm.

"_Of course_ it's a yes, you idiot. It would have been a yes if you had asked me over text at 3:00 in the morning the day before. But wow, I mean…wow. Thank you. This is seriously amazing."

"Good," Scott laughs, hugging Stiles back, his spirits soaring in happiness. "And what can I say; apparently I have a reputation to uphold."


	3. Chapter 3

This whole prom thing is honestly shaping up to be more stress than it's probably worth, Scott thinks to himself as he stands outside the door to Derek's loft, hand raised mid-air, fingers balled into a fist as if frozen mid-knock.

He takes a deep breath and steels his resolve, calms his nerves and gathers his courage before gently rapping his fist against the door.

It takes a few moments for anyone to answer, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to turn around and run away right then. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens and there's Derek, standing in front of him in reading glasses and sweatpants and a book in hand.

Scott is momentarily taken aback at how casual and laid-back he looks, and it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts as Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

"Scott, come in. Is there something you needed?"

It's now or never, Scott thinks as he slinks into Derek's loft, silently cursing Lydia for making him do this in the first place.

She had immediately shot down the proposal to use her lake house _("Absolutely not,"_ she had stated firmly_. "Not after last time. And we're selling it soon, anyway"_) and this is kind of their only other option.

No matter how he looks at it, he can't imagine the answer he'll receive will be very pleasant.

"Uh, Derek? Could I ask you a favor? I mean, you can say no of course. I don't have to tell you that, obviously, I mean—it's just that Lydia put me in charge of finding somewhere to hang out after prom, you know, it'd just be a small group, just the pack, really…anyway, she'll probably kill me or something if I can't find anything and…well I was wondering—"

"You want to use loft for your after party."

It's not a question, and while Derek's eyebrows are raised and his arms are crossed, he doesn't actually seem mad. Just incredulous and maybe even a little bit…amused?

Scott blinks and clears his throat, trying to carefully plan out what to say to make this work. "Well, yeah. It'd be like we were renting it for the night, you know, we just need the space—I'll make sure everyone cleans up after themselves and you could join us too if you want, or if you don't want to stay you could crash at my place for the night— my mom wouldn't mind— and we won't touch your stuff and I'll pay you and everything; it would be as if we were renting out an apartment room or something, and—"

"Scott," Derek cuts him off again, and this time Scott's sure it isn't just a trick of his imagination—that's definitely amusement he hears in Derek's voice.

"It's fine if we can't use it, I totally get it, especially after the whole stunt that Ethan pulled with the black light party and—"

"_Scott,"_ Derek repeats, this time more firmly, resting a hand on Scott's shoulder, "you don't have to pay me to use the loft."

Scott blinks at him owlishly and stares blankly, mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say—because however he was expecting Derek to react, it wasn't at all like this, all calm and quietly amused and, well, _not mad_.

"Scott, you're like family. I'm not going to make someone who I consider family pay to use my loft for a night. I mean, after everything you've done for me, it's honestly the least I can do."

Derek is blushing as he says this, full-out turning red and coughing a little to hide his embarrassment.

The words '_like family'_ echo through Scott's mind and he marvels for a moment at how far they've come. Sure, he's thought of Derek as family for a while now, as more than just pack and as something like a brother, but he never knew… didn't really realize or stop to think that Derek felt the same way about him.

And it feels really, really nice.

Scott is so touched that he does the only thing that he can really think to do—he steps forward, closing the space between them, and wraps his arms around Derek, engulfing him in a hug that's been a long time coming.

And as it turns out, even though he's a little stiff and awkward and clearly still getting used to this whole 'physical affection' thing that Scott is so fond of, Derek Hale is a very huggable person.

"Thanks, Derek. I really, really appreciate it. And I'm really glad you consider me family, too."

"Of course," Derek mumbles awkwardly as they break apart, and even though he still looks slightly embarrassed and he's clearly trying to maintain some of his cool, gruff exterior, he can't hide the fact that he's smiling bigger than Scott's seen him smile in a long time.

"So, are you going to join us?"

Derek scoffs, taking up his usual sarcastic attitude.

"Please, don't you think I have better things to do than hang out with a bunch of teenagers on a Friday night? I can just stay over Braeden's place."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth he knows he's made a mistake, and he groans at the sudden spark of interest in Scott's eyes.

Scott nudges him and grins mischievously.

"Braeden, huh? I knew you two had a thing," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek glares back at him.

"Yes, okay? She's...she's…yeah."

"You've always had a way with words, huh?"

Scott continues to grin at him until he catches on that Derek isn't amused. He quickly drops the smirk and adopts a more thoughtful tone, sensing that this is delicate territory he's treading on and not wanting to ruin their moment.

"No, seriously though, I'm really happy for you, dude. She seems awesome."

At this Derek can't help but smile. "Yeah, she really is. Thanks, Scott."

They stand in comfortable silence for a few seconds before a thought suddenly pops up into Scott's head, and his eyes light up as he blurts it out to Derek.

"Hey, even If you don't join us for the after party, you should totally come over beforehand— you know, if you want. You could help me get ready and all. My mom is going to have a lot on her hands dealing with me and Isaac; I'm sure she'd appreciate the help, and it'd be like having an older brother there, or something. You don't have to, obviously, but I think it might be nice."

Derek looks stunned at this sudden invitation, and his voice wavers a little when he replies.

"I'd love that. I don't know if I'll be busy, but I'll definitely do my best to try and come. I really wouldn't want to miss it."

"I really hope to see you there. And thanks again," Scott says, smiling warmly, "for everything."

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"What do you mean you're not going?"

"I mean I'm not going. I'll be the only one there without a date and I don't like dancing and—and I'm just not going. I don't want to."

"Dude, you can't just _not_ go. Come on, you don't need a date. We're all going to be there—all your friends. Just hang out with us. You're seriously going to be missing out if you don't come."

But Isaac just shakes his head and refuses to budge.

Scott sighs, loudly and dramatically.

"Erica and Boyd are going to be there. They just got back from their trip abroad and they said they were going to try to sneak in. Do you really want to miss that? I mean, we haven't seen them in ages. Dude, even _Cora _is going!"

Isaac perks up, almost despite himself, at the mention of Erica and Boyd.

"Erica and Boyd and Cora…everyone really is going to be there, aren't they?"

"Yeah, and it won't be the same without you. Come on, I want all my best friends to be there, and you definitely fall under that category. And we could all use a day to just have fun and act like normal teenagers for a change, you know?"

Isaac looks like he's having some sort of internal battle as he tries to make up his mind, and Scott watches the different emotions flit across his face.

Sensing that his friend might need another push in the right direction, Scott puts on his best pleading expression, complete with puppy-dog eyes and bottom lip jutted out in a pout and all.

"Please come— for me? For your friends? It would mean a lot. If you're really not comfortable with it you don't have to, I won't force you, but I really think you'd have a lot of fun. Much more fun that sitting in alone shut up in your room while all of us are out, for sure."

Isaac carefully avoids Scott's eyes as he considers this (he knows that the second he looks at him, he's a goner) before finally letting out a long sigh.

"Fine. I'll come. But if I end up having a horrible time, I'm blaming you."

Scott grins and drapes an arm around Isaac's shoulder. "Thanks, man. I promise you're not going to have a horrible time. Just don't go into it with that attitude and you'll have a blast."

"Yeah, okay," Isaac replies doubtfully. Scott can tell that he still doesn't really believe him, and silently vows to prove him wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

The days leading up to their big night are full of last minute tailoring of suits and dresses, frantically scheduled and re-scheduled hair and nail appointments, finalized plans on how everyone is getting there, where they're meeting, and so on.

Lydia _does_ end up winning the prom proposal competition—they announce it over the loud speakers at school during the morning announcements the day before, and Lydia winks not-so-discretely at Allison, who can't seem to stop smiling despite the fact that people badger her all day wanting to know how exactly Lydia asked, and what it was like, and how it felt, and if this meant that the two of them were official now—which they were, already had been for months, really.

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Before they know it, it's the day of, and everyone is scrambling around trying to get ready, with varying levels of stress and excitement.

"SCOTT! THE DOOR!"

His mom's voice echoes throughout the house as he stares forlornly into the mirror on his dresser, trying and failing to tie his tie himself.

"Screw it," he mutters to himself as he gives up trying to make it look presentable and makes his way downstairs and towards the front door just as the doorbell rings again.

All his annoyance at his wardrobe deficiency melts away, however, when he sees who's there standing on his doorstep.

Derek shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and looking like he has no idea what to do with himself.

"You came!" Scott beams at him, motioning him to come inside and surprising him with another hug as soon as he steps through the door.

"Of course," Derek mumbles, before stepping back, looking Scott up and down.

"It's weird, seeing you in all dressed up like this. But you look good. Except—" he says, pointing to the pitiful mess Scott has made of his tie, "_what_ is going on there?"

Scott blushes in embarrassment, but Derek just smirks at him and quickly fixes it, tying it properly and smoothing it down.

"There. Good as new."

As Scott is thanking him, Melissa McCall makes her way down the stairs, smiling warmly at Derek when she sees him and pulling him into a hug that he's definitely not expecting.

"Derek! I'm so glad you could come. Scott told me you might stop by. Sorry I couldn't get the door—Isaac's got a hole in in his jacket and I had to sew it up for him real quick."

Derek looks surprised by this heartfelt invitation, at how much Scott's mom is going out of her way to make him feel at home, like he's a part of something, and he feels as if something warm has found it's way to his chest.

After some last minute prepping and priming, Isaac and Scott are finally getting ready to leave— with Stiles outside in his jeep waiting for them (Scott had offered to drive but Stiles refused to get on the back of his dirt bike, especially in his nice clothes, and insisted on taking the jeep)—and they're all gathered around the front door.

"You boys look so grown up," Scott's mom says, kissing them each on the cheek, beaming proudly at them.

Scott is not surprised to see his mom tearing up—he expected as much—but he_ is_ startled when he turns to Derek to give him one last hug and sees him fighting back tears.

"Dude, are you _crying_?"

"No. Of course not," Derek responds gruffly, but he can't hide the crack in his voice as he says it and his eyes are definitely glistening.

He sniffles a bit after giving Scott and Isaac a quick embrace, mumbling something under his breath so that the only words Scott catches are something like 'happy' and 'have fun' before Scott is finally out the door and waving at him over his shoulder.

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As Scott and Isaac make their way towards the jeep, leaving Melissa and Derek still standing by the door behind them, Melissa rests a hand on Derek's shoulder, and gives him another kind smile, one that reminds him painfully of his own mother.

"Why don't you come on in for a bit and have a cup of coffee with me, Derek?" she says, leading him gently back towards the kitchen. "I could use some company."

And so he does.

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When it comes time to name prom queen and king, no one is particularly surprised by the results.

Danny's name is called first, as Beacon Hill's prom king, and although he looks mildly taken off guard as he makes his way towards the stage, a slightly embarrassed but pleased smile on his face all the while, no one would have expected anyone else—it's common knowledge in Beacon Hills High that everyone loves Danny, and it's only natural that he's gotten the most votes.

Lydia's name is called next, and she saunters on stage with such poise and confidence that clearly indicates she expected no less.

The crown looks so natural on Lydia, like it just belongs there, as she bows to the cheering crowd and beams at the sea of faces looking up at her, basking in being the center of attention.

It's not hard to spot her friends—the pack sticks out like a sore thumb, all of them are front and center, beaming up at her and Danny with pride and cheering the loudest and most obnoxiously out of everyone in the room, Allison in particular bouncing up and down in excitement.

Lydia beams back at them, giving a little wave and a toothy smile before recovering her cool and collected composure.

After she and Danny each say a few words of thanks to the crowd, it comes time for the couples dance, the one that's always led off by the prom king and queen (not together, necessarily, but rather with the person of their choice), and they make their way off stage.

Without warning, as she's preparing to leave, the heel of Lydia's shoe gets caught on a wire from the microphone, and she doesn't have time to catch herself, to even really register the fact that she's falling before she's toppling off the edge of the stage and the ground is suddenly rushing up to meet her.

She barely has time to close her eyes and to prepare herself for the inevitable collision when she feels a pair of strong, familiar arms catch her and hold her close.

She peels an eyelid open and there's Allison, looking concerned but also clearly trying not to laugh at Lydia's clumsiness.

Lydia sighs in relief and reaches up to make sure her crown is unharmed and still firmly on top of her head before she wraps her arms around Allison's shoulders and buries her face in the crook of her neck.

"My knight in shining armor," she says, and Allison can feel the warmth of her breath and the curl of her lips against her skin.

Allison laughs and places her gingerly on her feet.

"Whatever you say, Lydia—I guess you are technically a queen tonight. So," Allison smirks at Lydia, who still looks flushed from her near-catastrophe but radiant in her floor-length gown and gem-studded prom-queen crown, "may I have this dance, _Your Highness_?"

"Oh, shut up," Lydia laughs and gives Allison a playful little shove before accepting her outstretched hand and tugging her towards the dance floor.

After assuring Danny that she's fine, who's got his arms around Mason, the nice new kid he's been dating, she pulls Allison close and rests her head against her chest as they sway back and worth to the beat.

This time, she doesn't really even care that the spotlight is back on them, the two pairs alone on the dance floor with lights shining on them from the ceiling and people surrounding them nearby. All that matters in that moment is Allison, her warmth, the feel of her skin against hers, and the steady, reassuring beat of her heart.

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It's not long before other people start to join in. Kira turns to Malia and smirks, grabbing her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

"Dance with me, dumbass," she quips, echoing Malia's own words from that night in the club long ago, and Malia can't help but grin back at her. Soon enough, their bodies are pressed close together and they're swaying happily back and forth.

Dirty dancing with Malia was fun, but besides just being better at slow-dancing, Kira likes this much better. Because this is a different type of closeness— somehow it's more intimate, and after how close she's gotten with Malia, and considering the fact that they're dating now, she loves it.

Isaac and Cora seem to be having a great time together, dancing rather enthusiastically to their own beat and making a statement to 'celebrate being single' as they put it, whenever people ask them what on Earth they're doing.

Scott's heart is thudding in his chest as he grabs Stiles' hand, intertwining their fingers, and inclines his head towards the direction of the dance floor and away from Boyd and Erica, who are now intensely making out, completely engrossed in each other and oblivious to everything and everyone else around them.

They dance in silence for a few moments, with Stiles resting his head against Scott's, before Stiles starts to realize how tense his friend's body seems against his and stands back to study his face.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asks in concern, noting the tiny crease in between Scott's eyebrows and the troubled look in his eyes.

"Well, I was just thinking," Scott begins, his pulse racing as he struggles to get the words out, "all of these couples dancing like this right now are, you know, _together _together. I was just wondering if we…are we…you know, _together_?"

Stiles rests presses his forehead against Scott's and looks right into his eyes, as if searching for something he might find there, and brushes his lips against Scott's.

"Well, that depends," he says, with their faces still very close and their lips almost touching, "do you want to be?"

Scott lets out a shaky breath and touches his fingers to his lips, the ghost of Stiles' touch still on them, and of course he has his answer—he's had it for months and months now; he's been waiting for this moment since the moment he realized he'd fallen for his best friend.

He closes the distance between them easily, kissing Stiles fully and reveling in the fact that he's finally doing what he's wanted to do for months, before reluctantly pulling away.

"Yeah," he breathes out, "Yeah, I really do."

Stiles breaks out into a soft smile that Scott doesn't often see on him, and he's looking at him the same way he used to look at Lydia, or Malia when the two of them were dating.

"That's good. Because I really, really do too."


End file.
